


Mine

by puffpuffpride29



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-03
Updated: 2020-06-03
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:02:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 19,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22104508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/puffpuffpride29/pseuds/puffpuffpride29
Summary: The healer turned to her patient. “Do you know who you are, my dear?”“Well of course I do, Poppy. Severus Tobias Snape.”“Can you tell me today’s date, and the current Minister?”“Sure. It’s…” He faltered, and suddenly looked quite worried. “Oh. No.”Set after the war, Severus Snape is alive and a strange potions accident brings him closer to an old student, Hermione Granger.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Severus Snape
Comments: 134
Kudos: 561





	1. The Accident

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, this is my first time writting a fic or using this site. No Beta so let me know if there are any type-o's (I'm sure there will be). Hope you like it! I have some chapters done but there's some gaps I'm still filling in. Thanks :)

“Thank you for coming, dear,” the Headmistress said to her former student. “And so quickly. Do you have any idea why he would be asking for you?”

The click of their heals echoed off the old castle walls as the two women made their way from the Headmistress’ office down toward the hospital wing. Students stared and whispered as the women walked determinedly past, no doubt recognizing the famous curly hair and determined face of Hermione Granger, brains of the Golden Trio, savior of the wizarding world, keeping stride with their Headmistress.

Hermione frowned in thought, watching a group of students in front of them scatter. “I’m afraid I don’t, Minerva. We haven’t been in contact for years. Has his condition improved since you owled me?”

The older woman pushed open the infirmary door and sighed. “Still in and out of consciousness. Never alert enough for us to figure out which potion he was working on, or what caused it to explode – he’s back this way, follow me – and Madame Promfrey has him stable, but she’s hesitant to treat him any further until she knows the underlying cause, of course.”

In a private room toward the back of the infirmary, they entered to the sight of flowers, chocolates and presents dotting the tables on both sides of the room. In the center on a white hospital bed lay Severus Snape.

Even in his present state, Hermione thought to herself that he looked better than the last time she’d seen him, at his trial. He’d been too thin then, staring blankly ahead, not seeming to care about his fate at the time; although he did owl a succinct and formal note of gratitude to Harry and herself for their glowing testimonies in his defense.

“Let me see if Poppy has a moment. Stay with him, dear?”

Hermione nodded her reply.

Once alone with the Potions Professor, Hermione pulled a chair next to his bed and chanced a few diagnostic spells. He seemed fine physically, overall. Stable. The trouble appeared to be neurological. She swallowed. No wonder Madame Pomphrey was hesitant to start further treatment; nothing was more difficult to heal than the human mind. 

She watched the steady rise and fall of his chest for a moment before her eyes wandered to his neck. The scars from Nagini were still there, but they had healed quite well. Her mind drifted to the night in the shack, when she’d held him, hands covered in blood, doing everything to - 

“Mine…” came a soft moan that Hermione was sure she imagined.

Two familiar voices approached the room and she turned to face the healer. Poppy smiled. “Nice to see you, Miss Granger. Thank you for coming. He hasn’t woken yet, but he keeps calling your name. I didn’t realize the two of you were close.”

“To be honest, we aren’t,” she admitted, twisting her fingers awkwardly. “I’ve no idea why-”

“Hermione…” 

There was no mistaking it this time. The three women turned quickly to see Severus Snape’s eyes flutter open. As Madame Pomfrey ran some complicated diagnostics, Hermione absently put a hand on the bed. He was gazing fondly at her from under half-lidded eyes.

“Professor! You’re awake.”

Slowly his brows met in confusion. He blinked his eyes open and shook his head, sitting up. “'Professor?' You’re… oh, you’re young. Are you my student?”

She sent a worried glance to Madame Promfrey, who returned it. The healer turned to her patient. “Do you know who you are, my dear?”

“Well of course I do, Poppy. Severus Tobias Snape.”

“Can you tell me today’s date, and the current Minister?”

“Sure. It’s…” He faltered, and suddenly looked quite worried. “Oh. No.”

“Severus,” Minerva cut in, “you were working on a potion. There was an accident. Septima found you after the explosion; she vanished everything in case the liquid was still dangerous. If you could tell us what it was, we might be better equipped to help you. Do you remember?”

He was silent for a long moment, struggling to put the pieces together before his eyes widened with realization.

He laughed. Loudly. Poppy looked more worried than before.

“The accident. Yes, I remember. Well, I remember it all, that’s the trouble, isn’t it?” They were fearing he’d gone quite mad as he waved the healer away. “Save your magic, Poppy. I know the counter-potion. I’ll have it brewed by next week.” She did not look convinced even as he added, “It’s 2002. Kingsley. Satisfied?”

“I’m certainly not,” Minerva said sternly. “What in the name of Circe happened? I don’t think you’ve blown a cauldron in your life.”

If Hermione didn’t know better, she’d accuse Severus Snape of looking guilty. 

“I’ll tell you, Minerva,” he conceded, “but you won’t like my answer. You know the situation with Her – with Miss Grainger’s parents.”

The woman’s face softened as she glanced to Hermione, who was still coming to terms with the fact that she’d heard Severus Snape laugh. “Yes, I know.”

He turned to the young Griffindor with a strange look. “You owled me for advice, wondering if perhaps a potion could theoretically be a more viable way to undo the charms.”

Nodding, she added politely, “And I can’t thank you enough for the books, and for your advice. They’ve been very helpful with my research.”

“Miss Granger,” he said quietly. “You saved my life, and then you asked me for help. Did you really think I would owl you a few texts and go about my business?”

Her mouth popped open, but no words came out. Was he really telling her that…

“I’ve been working on a cure since I received your letter, and I’m close. Some promising research from a century ago pointed me toward alternative uses for time sand that could-“

“Severus Snape!” the unexpected shrill from his boss made everyone jump. “Tell me you didn’t!”

The look of guilt returned to his face.

“You – you could have blown up the school! And we’ve only just finished rebuilding. You could have been killed! Time sand is a class one restricted substance for a reason. How could you –“

“It was for Hermione,” he said quietly. 

Still looking cross, the woman folded her arms. “We’ll discuss it later.” 

“Anyway, like I was saying – it was more explosive than I’d predicted, and it worked too well. The brief contact restored all my memories.”

Hermione looked confused. “Isn’t that… well… the point?”

He paused, then realized. “Oh, I’m not explaining well. I mean, my whole life’s memories.”

The three women exchanged glances.

He sighed, frustrated. “All my memories. Forever. From the day I was born until the day I’ll die. Everything.”


	2. Apologies

Silence hung heavy in the room.

“Severus…” The healer began incredulously, “are you… are you saying you know the future?”

“Only my own,” he answered flatly before turning to Hermione. “We’ll start working on the potion for your parents’ memory together next week. I won’t want your help, but your influence will be instrumental in creating the cure. Our second attempt will be successful. It will be finished in approximately a year.”

Of the three watching him, Hermione seemed to be the most in shock. She felt tears prickle behind her eyes. Only a week before she had been telling Ginny over drinks that she had come to another dead end in her research; the thought of having her parents back in a year seemed unreal.

Before Madame Pomfrey could interject, he continued “If you don’t mind, millions of neurons just sprouted up across my brain like a field of daisies. Fetch me something for this colossal headache?”

The healer spun and left, sputtering.

“Your entire future? Everything?” Minerva’s eyes were wide behind half-mooned glasses. She sounded skeptical.

“Odgens. 1906 – a great year for firewhiskey. We’ll share it on a special occasion someday. And happy Christmas to you, also. Now, Minerva, would you mind terribly to give Hermione and I a moment? I’d like to speak with her privately.”

She nodded, a strange dumbstruck look on her face. “I suppose you already know that I will,” Hermione heard the murmur as she left.

Severus Snape turned and regarded the younger witch with a strange look. She was still fighting down the emotional reaction she’d had from the news of being reunited with her parents, and the fact that Severus Snape had been working all this time to do it. The idea of this man in front of her seeing the future didn’t shock her as much – after all the fantastical things she’d witnessed since entering the world of magic, this felt like another Tuesday. In fact, the strangest thing about the situation was the way he was looking at her. Was that… fondness?

“Hermione – pardon me, may I call you by your first name? After working together for a year we’ll get to know each other quite well, and using your last name makes me feel like your professor again.”

She nodded, waiting for him to continue. Nothing could have prepared her for his next words.

“I should apologize, for a few things.”

Blinking in amazement, she stuttered “W-whatever for?”

He looked away, not concealing the regret from his face. “It was tactless to present the information regarding your parents in such a blunt and public way. I know how important it is to you.” His mind thought back – or forward? – to the night she had incorrectly cut a slice of bitterroot and proceeded to break down emotionally in front of him. He’d thought her a silly girl overreacting to a simple error, but she finally explained the entire story of her parents.

“What if they’re upset at me for sending them away?” She’d sobbed into his chest as he awkwardly patted her head. “What if they prefer their new life without me?”

He shook the memory away and continued, “I should also apologize for my actions over the course of the next year. I am not in the business of making friends, or being kind for kindness sake,” he smiled a little sadly and added, “not the most ideal research partner. And also, for – ah – well, I shouldn’t say that. I feel quite like I’ve fallen into the past and need to censor myself. I’m sure you can relate.”

Hermione felt her heart constrict at the image before her. She’d never witnessed the man look anything other than miserable, angry or irritated. This version of Severus Snape seemed so strange in comparison.

Promfrey burst back into the room before she could react to his apology, thrusting a vial into his hand. “Here you are, Severus. Miss Granger, thank you for your visit, but I’m sure you have to get back to work and Severus should rest.”

It was true – she had a mountain of paperwork on her desk at the Ministry. She stood to excuse herself when Severus told her, “Owl me on Friday; I’ll be back to myself by then.”

“Don’t take no for an answer,” he added with a wink.

The look of bewilderment that crossed her face made him hold back a laugh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry everyone, our favorite snarky bat of the dungeons will be back by chapter 4.


	3. Counter-potion

Minerva couldn’t have been more pleased with her staff at Hogwarts. Not only with their respective teaching styles, and with their companionship and loyalty, but also for the way every member came together in a time like this. Professor Severus Snape had taken the remainder of the week off to work on the counter-potion for his condition, and each professor had stepped forward to alleviate his absence. Professor Flitwick and Argus Filch had taken up extra patrols, while Professor Sprout and Professor Selwyn (the new DADA professor) had taken over classes. Even Professor Trelawney had offered to take notes for him during the staff meeting.

It had only been two days, but even Professor Vector, who was known to butt heads with their Potions professor most of all, had joked that the castle was too cheery without his signature sarcastic grumblings of dunderheads and halfwits. The Headmistress quite agreed. She made her way into the castle dungeons to visit.

“Come in,” came the familiar voice just as Minerva raised a hand to knock. She gave a surprised huff, but obliged.

He was sitting casually at his office desk, working on papers. The witch entered the room and sat primly in the chair across from him. “How is your head feeling?”

Resting his quill, he replied with some strain, “like the dancefloor of a Hippogriff party.”

With a hmm of sympathy, she inquired, “You mentioned the counter-potion would be ready by tomorrow?”

He met her eye and replied evenly, “Oh, no. I finished it yesterday. I expect to take it sometime this evening.”

Her eyebrows rose in surprise and confusion. “Why wait?”

He looked away and leaned back in his chair, tenting his fingers under his chin and weighing his answer. “I suppose because it’s… nice. To have so many good memories, after having only the bad for so long.” He reached into the chest pocket of his robes, removing a vial with thick purple liquid swishing within. Brushing the cork with his thumb, he gave a small sigh.

“Am I to assume Hermione plays a role in these memories?” She asked after a moment, curiosity getting the best of her.

He chuckled, looking up from the phial to meet her gaze again. “Perhaps a few.” He studied the woman across from him, the woman he’d known his entire life and would know for many more years. His mentor, his friend. He admitted quietly, “you’ll officiate our wedding.”

The matron smiled softly at him as he finally opened the cork with a quick pop. “Well, I suppose I should get this over with. Cheers to the future, I suppose.”

Throwing his head back and consuming the contents within, he returned the stopper and set it down, blinking slowly. His eyes were fixed on the small glass container, his face pale but unreadable. They sat for a few seconds in silence while she waited his response.

Suddenly his head jerked up, looking to her with wild eyes.

“Did I just tell you I’m going to marry Hermione Grainger?”

/* /* /* /* /* /* /* /* /* /* /* /* /* /* /* /* /* /*

Thursdays were girls’ night.

Friday nights she reserved for Harry and Ron. They’d get takeout; better not to be seen in public more than they had to. Tomorrow was Harry’s turn to choose, so it would be curry. Ron liked to go for either Chinese or Italian, but Hermione didn’t care what they ate so long as the topic of Quiddich was off-limits. They’d always have plenty to catch up on after busy weeks. Harry had completed Auror training almost too quickly, and was thriving at work. Though he’d constantly insist on not getting any special treatment, it was one fight he couldn’t always win. Hermione had bet Ron five galleons he’d make Head Auror within the year. Ron was surprisingly busy as well, having joined George in the magic shop. Once he realized charm work could be fun, he’d surpassed even Hermione in his abilities, and always had a bag of new inventions and ideas to spitball. Hermione, per usual, kept herself busy both with work in the Department of Magical creatures, and with her side project of research for her parents. They would laugh together, sometimes they would cry together, they would reminisce. 

But Thursdays were girl’s night.

“He WHAT!” Ginny cried, after nearly spitting out her beer. She composed herself slightly and added, “I would pay galleons for photographic evidence of Severus Snape winking.”

Luna was beaming. “A year! Hermione, that’s such good news!”

The two girls had sat quietly while she recounted her visit to Hogwarts on Tuesday. It still felt surreal. Saying it out loud for the first time gave the experience a sort of tangibility it hadn’t had before; once she started divulging the events, she’d barely paused to take a breath, and they knew better than to interrupt.

Hermione took the first sip of her own drink, which had stood untouched and unnoticed for the last ten minutes. “Honestly, I think I’m still in shock. I’ve been so busy at work, I haven’t even had time to think about it.”

Ginny ran two hands through her short red hair. Hermione thought it suited her well; the Chaser had cut it when training for the Harpies started earlier that year. “D’you really think he was telling the truth? That he could see the future? He could have used Legilimency to guess what McGonagall's Christmas present for him could be.” 

Luna interjected, “Time sand is almost impossible to come by. He could have gotten some from Draco, though.”

The other girls stared at Luna. “Malfoy? What would he be doing with time sand?”

“His father was very interested in time travel,” she explained. “After Lucius passed away, Draco inherited a lot of interesting magical artifacts that were disguised as regular objects – books and jewelry and clothes that were actually other things. He was telling me about some of them over dinner last week.”

The two girls looked at Luna, then at each other, then turned back to her. Hermione was the first to speak. “Luna, are you… dating Draco Malfoy?”

“Well of course not,” she laughed at the idea. “He’s not interested in women. We just met in the shops a while back and I asked for his help with an article in the Quibbler. We sort of turned into pen pals. He’s been very informative about a lot of ideas I’ve had for the newspaper. I think he’d make a great journalist.”

Trying to take in all this new information, Hermione was always putting the puzzle pieces together. “You think he’d sell it to Professor Snape?”

Luna shrugged. “He’d probably just give it to him. Professor Snape is his godfather.”

“Luna, are you writing a newspaper or Malfoy’s autobiography?” Ginny joked. “Speaking of which, how did your article about the new line of broomsticks turn out? The ones Neville grew the wood for?”

As the conversation turned, Hermione was struck with the thought that she knew nearly nothing about this man who would be the key to saving her parents. Suddenly, she found herself a bit apprehensive to owl him the next day.


	4. First Meeting

The owl swooping to the staff table at Hogwarts was unfamiliar, but the writing adorning his letter was not. Severus Snape recognized the script before he’d read the name. Immediately his mind flashed back to long nights grading her extensive parchments; the girl had never left out a fact or thought that crossed her mind. The bird landed beside him, staring intently and cocking his head to the side. Severus supposed she wanted an answer.

_Dear Professor Snape,  
I cannot express enough gratitude for the interest you have taken in helping my parents. As requested, I am writing you so we can begin working together. Would you object to meeting weekly or biweekly? Mondays and Tuesdays are usually no good; I wind up taking my work home with me to catch up from the weekend. Wednesday evenings are fine. Thursday and Friday evenings I am unavailable, but Saturday afternoon or evening also works. Sunday I am available all day. Of course, I wish to cut into your personal life or school schedule as little as possible; if none of these days are agreeable, perhaps-_

He dropped the letter. Circe. The girl wrote the same way she spoke: incessantly. Grabbing a pen, he scribbled his response:

_Saturday then. 3 o’clock in my office. Bring your research.  
-SS_

Handing the owl a breakfast sausage with the note, he growled “don’t let your owner bother me before Saturday.”

/* /* /* /*

“He’s definitely getting more creative with it. He didn’t want to go to bed last night, so he turned both his ears into noses and started shouting that he couldn’t hear me. I remember when Nymphadora was about that age and didn’t want to eat her carrots, so she made her mouth disappear completely. So unnerving.”

Lunch with Andromeda had developed into one of her cherished weekly routines. Each Saturday, after sleeping off their fun from the night before, Hermione would show up with her boys to see Harry’s godson. The 4-year-old was just discovering his metamorphmagus abilities and getting inventive with them. His grandmother talked to Hermione over tea in the kitchen while Harry and Ron pretended to be trolls and chased Teddy around the living room.

“How have you been, dear? Getting enough sleep?”

She nodded. The PTSD hadn’t caused her many problems in the past year; the night terrors were rare and the panic attacks were rarer, but Andromeda always liked to check in. “Oh yes, thank you. I’ve had a fine week. Work is the same as always. I also spoke with Professor Snape; he’s discovered a potions ingredient that might be able to help my parents. We’re going to start working on some possible antidotes tomorrow.”

The woman lit up. “That’s terrific news! Oh, Hermione! I’m so happy to hear that.”

She returned the positivity with an uneasy smile. The idea of spending a year with Severus Snape was still a bit daunting. But, maybe he’d changed since the war. Maybe without the stress of being a spy he would be just a bit less…well, grouchy.

After finishing her tea, Hermione took over troll duty so the boys could have a break. Before long it was 2:00, and she excused herself to get ready. Putting on her robes and packing her research, she apparated just outside of Hogwarts and began the long walk to the dungeons. With her mind spinning hypotheticals and her feet strolling the familiar path, she found herself quickly at his office door.

“Enter!” he barked just as her knuckles hit the wood. She had a strange feeling of deja-vu; never would she have guessed to be in this position again. She all but gulped before turning the handle and walking in. He looked up at her indifferently. “Miss Granger. Please, have a seat. Let’s not waste time.”

She knew what to expect, but the drastic change in his demeanor since the infirmary struck her. “I see the counter-potion worked.”

The professor looked although she’d informed him of his own name. “Ob-viously.”

She sat down across from him and reached into her beaded bag. The two notebooks she produced were meticulously organized; the first contained her studies into charms, and the second her studies into potions. He took them silently and began to flip through them.

“An astonishing waste of time, all of it.” He said finally, snapping a notebook shut. “Dead ends and fool’s errands. I did not expect to find anything of worth in your research and still I am disappointed.”

Hermione bristled, feeling her cheeks flush in anger. “Well I apologize, Professor,” she ground through gritted teeth, “that my base of knowledge did not match a Potions Master twenty years my senior.”

“Watch your tone, Granger.” He responded icily, raising an eyebrow. “I in no way require your presence to continue this project.”

“You said in the infirmary that I’ll be instrumental to discovering the cure. You’d risk changing the future just to avoid me?”

“I have considered it,” he enunciated, “At. Length.”

Biting the inside of her cheek, she took a long breath before asking, “And may I see your research, then?”

He pulled a large notebook from his bottom drawer. She was amazed to see he’d enchanted the citations to expand into larger quotes when they were touched. Before she could speak, he pulled two sizeable books from another drawer.

“Be delicate with these, Granger. They may be the last copies of these texts in existence. I’ve enchanted them for a bit more durability, but do try not to lose or ruin them. They are the only manuscripts I could acquire that discuss time sand. Will you have time to finish them by next Saturday?”

Eyes wide, she could only nod a reply. The thought of rare books about something as interesting as time travel made her heart race.  
“Very well. Saturday then. You may use my office floo to come and go in the future. Good day, Miss Granger.”

The shock of being so quickly dismissed was mitigated by the excitement of being able to read. Standing, she picked up his notebook and the texts, turning toward his fireplace. “Good day, Professor Snape.”


	5. The Study

Leaning over a long oak table scattered with take-away boxes, a few bottles of Hopaleye IPA, and a handful of Ron’s latest inventions, Hermione Granger was precisely and methodically waving her wand in a variety of intricate formations. Beneath her lay a long rope with an ear-like piece at one end. From either side of her, her two friends watched in anticipation until she finally stopped and sat back down.

“I give up!” she said breathlessly. “The magic is completely undetectable.”

Ron swallowed the bite of rice he’d just taken. “Best part is that it can get through any wards created to keep magic out, which was the main drawback of the original Extendable Ears.”

“You’ve outdone yourself with this one. How’d you do it?” Harry asked, toying with the bodiless ear. 

Their friend grinned and leaned forward. “You’re going to kick yourselves when I tell you. Ya’know how George’s wife Angela is muggle-born?” They nodded, waiting for him to continue. “Well. They were out to dinner a few weeks back with her brother, Alex. He works with muggle electronics.”

“Oh!” Hermione suddenly gasped in surprise. “Are you telling me this is a –“

Ron nodded before she could finish. “Yep. Muggle microphone. With a speaker at the other end.”

Harry laughed and took a swig of his beer. “That’s incredible! Amazing sound quality. These and your charmed quills are going to be a smash at Hogwarts.”

“Speaking of,” Ron asked, turning to the other brunette at the table, “How did your first session with Snape go?”

The sour look on her face didn’t surprise either of them. “Exactly how I expected. He was insulting and condescending. He basically treated me like I was a student again, but he did loan me some pretty rare books.”

“It’ll be worth it,” Harry said, putting a hand on her shoulder. She returned his smile.

As Ron finished up the last of his rice, he wondered aloud “What d'you think happens to make Snape… well… less Snape-like.”

Hermione thought for a moment and then giggled. “He mentioned that we’d be friends someday. What if he becomes friends with you lot, too? Can you imagine eating curry and playing cards with Professor Snape?”

Sitting up too straight, Ron looked down his nose to Harry. “Since you’ve found a moment to cease strutting around saving the world, I’d like to inquire to see if you have any kings, Potter.”

Harry mimicked the smooth baritone. “You may go fish, as long as you do in fact leave, Weasley.”

A younger version of herself would have chastised the boys, but Hermione let herself laugh at their terrible impressions. To be truthful, the main reason she had defended him was because he seemed so unliked and lonely, feelings that were far too familiar. She wondered, if it weren’t for her friends, if she might have grown up to have a lot in common with the irritable man.

/* /* /* /*

The professor’s research had been incredibly fascinating. After studying pensives, memory charms, and neurology, he’d moved on to studying artifacts. As far as she could tell, he had traveled to Egypt in the pursuit of a ring that was thought to cure any ailment. Later he traveled to South America looking for a jewel that could restore the mind from madness. Without any luck finding the artifacts, he spent some time seeing if dark magic had anything to offer. She skipped most of those pages. It had been a stroke of genius to research different methods of seeing the future, and then augment them to see the past. After absorbing his notes, she’d inhaled everything his texts had to offer about time sand. She finished the second book just in time to get ready for their session.

She took a moment to dust herself off after stepping through the fireplace and into his office.

“Miss Granger,” he said silkily, “follow me.”

He led her through a door in his office into a larger room. Bookshelves lined the walls, and any absence of books was filled in with various jars of ingredients. One side of the room had a table for brewing, and the other side had a comfortable-looking couch and chair. Above them a model of the galaxy was mirroring the position of the planets in real time. A large window showed the incredible view into the lake, and let in so much sunlight that she supposed it must have been enchanted. Hermione watched with morbid curiosity as a Grindylow attacked and ate a small fish just outside the glass.

“We’re less likely to be disturbed in my study.” He said simply. “Now, perhaps we should begin with the basics. We face two main issues. First, we need something strong enough to stabilize the time sand without rendering it ineffective. Second, we’ll need to find an ingredient that blocks the future memories from forming.” 

They settled in on his couch and chair, and he enchanted a quill and parchment to magically take notes. An hour of brainstorming later, they had a handful of ideas to test out.

After summoning a house-elf to bring tea, the professor ended his spell on the quill. “I’ll get the ingredients. We can start experimenting next week.”

He didn’t need to be an Occulmens to tell she was suddenly anxious. She folded her arms tightly against herself and sank slightly into the couch. 

Doing her best to keep her voice steady, she rushed out the words “Before we start brewing, I should let you know that I sometimes have trouble with knives.”

He raised an eyebrow. “What sort of trouble?”

“Some PTSD symptoms. Flashbacks. Sometimes panic attacks.” She took a breath and waited for him to mock her. She could almost hear it now. The insufferable know-it-all Granger doesn’t know how to get out of her own head long enough to chop a flubberworm. When the insults didn’t come, she turned to see Severus Snape looking at her with a strange expression.

“I’ll handle the cutting, then. If you do have an episode, what can I do to help?”

She was speechless for a moment. Actually speechless. Shaking herself out of it, she answered, “I usually just need some space to work through it. Thank you for asking.”

When she arrived the following week, the ingredients they needed had been pre-cut, and the knives had been put away. Hermione felt conflicted. Perhaps Severus Snape had changed after the war after all, just a tiny bit.


	6. f*cking bambi

By eight o’clock that evening, eleven separate cauldrons sat before them in a variety of colors and textures. They had spent the day eagerly theorizing and experimenting with ground horns from Romanian Longhorn Dragons. The powder was the most commonly employed stabilizing ingredient, Severus had explained, because it was able be combined with an incredible amount of otherwise disastrous recipes. It stood to reason this should be their first choice to use in order to avoid future explosions.

In fact, it had been Severus Snape’s choice in his previous attempt at this brew. He hadn’t had much to go by then; a well-bribed Unspeakable revealed that the texts he already possessed about time sand were more than even the Ministry knew of the substance. In retrospect, Severus was grateful his first attempt at using the material didn't end up more disastrously than it did.

He slowly added Fire Seed to a bubbling brown substance. Naturally when brewing, he fell into a deep concentration and forgot the world around him. Brewing felt to him almost like a dance; just as much a science as it was an art. He almost jumped when a small cough came from beside him. After twenty minutes of silence, he had nearly forgotten that Hermione Granger was even there.

Though he would never admit it, the Potions Master found himself impressed with the younger witch. Hermione had immediately suggested arithmancy – a word that typically caused him to cringe. He loathed math more than he loathed bumbling first years carelessly throwing ingredients together. At her suggestion of handling the subject herself, though, he reluctantly admitted that their limited information of time sand would mean they needed to rely on hypotheticals. Arithmancy was the logical solution. 

She had offered to watch and take notes of his different experiments with the horn powder, and then meet with Professor Vector to get a rough model of its applications for their potion. During his studies to achieve a Potions Mastery, he knew that the greatest creators used arithmancy to predict how ingredients would interact best before they even began to experiment.

Not Severus Snape. Not math. Perhaps that’s why he was still teaching snotty eleven-year-olds instead of opening his own apothecary, he thought bitterly.

Stirring now, he took a second to glance up at her. She was scribbling furiously as she watched every move he made. She had enchanted a few stopwatches to hover just over him, making note of the precise moment each ingredient was added and specific results. Her parchment was nearly to the floor, detailing the horn powder’s reactions with each volatile ingredient they had combined it with so far. Her hair was piled into a bun on the top of her head, with curls escaping near her ears. Since he’d offered her the use of his office floo, she’d shown up today in jeans and some muggle tee shirt. 

The heat of the cauldrons had caused sweat to bead across her face, and she took a moment to swipe her forehead. He noticed the humidity had caused her hair to begin reverting back to a state of its famous bushiness from her childhood. Hermione Granger. The annoying, bossy, bushy-haired know-it-all Gryffindor. 

He had refused to let himself think of her role in his future yet. It seemed too impossible for him to begin to reconcile his feelings about her now, with the feelings he would have someday. He had to admit she’d grown into an attractive young woman, but young was the word of emphasis there.

As the bubbling cauldron stilled, he heard a sigh escape her lips. “That’s the last one. Thank goodness. I’m starving.”

He began to bottle a sample of each mixture, in case Vector needed a reference. As he did so, he called an elf and asked for tea and something to eat. By the time he’d finished and magicked the table clear, it was replaced with a spread of food.

“Thank you, sir,” she beamed. “That was very thoughtful.”

He glowered. “Hardly a matter of altruism. It’s a dreadfully long walk to the hospital wing if you collapse here on my floor.”

It was a poor excuse, but the only one he could think of.

He watched as she piled a pasta dish onto her plate and then flopped into the same spot on the sofa she’d occupied the previous Saturday. Taking a seat on the chair adjacent with his own food, they ate in silence for a bit before she spoke up.

“Professor Vector agreed to meet with me on Wednesday. I’m not sure how much we’ll get done, but hopefully enough to have something to go by again next Saturday.”

He grunted an approval. They continued eating for another long moment before she continued,

“I’m looking forward to it. Minerva was always my closest mentor, but Professor Vector’s class was my favorite. For a while I actually thought about pursuing a career in teaching arithmancy.” As an afterthought, she added “What made you decide to teach, sir?”

A personal question – this is how it would start. He wasn’t ready for this yet. He needed to shut her down, to buy himself more time. “Necessity,” he supplied indifferently.

She seemed disappointed in his answer but returned to her food. After another moment, she asked, “Do you think you’d like to be headmaster again, then? Once Minerva leaves, and of course under better circumstances.”

“No,” he said simply.

She finished her meal in silence and took a sip of tea. “Do you enjoy it? Teaching, I mean. When we were young it always seemed-“

“Granger,” he snapped, “I would have rather carried you to Poppy if I knew the alternative was your incessant questioning.”

She fell silent, looking dejected. Part of him felt guilty. She’d been trying to make conversation. Not many people cared enough – or perhaps dared enough – to enquire about his past, his aspirations, his preferences. He noticed her face changed suddenly, and she had the look usually reserved for solving a difficult problem. That could only be a bad sign.

She finished her tea and set down the cup with a bit too much force. “Thank you for dinner, Snape. It has occurred to me that you are a very private man and I am a very curious person. Seeing as we will be spending a considerable amount of time together, I propose a solution to our clash of personalities.”

With his best indifferent expression he waited for her to continue.

“One question per evening. However, I’d like an actual answer, as long as you’re comfortable providing it.”

Hm. He wasn’t sure if he appreciated this compromise. He didn’t owe her answers to anything. However, the prospect of avoiding the interrogation she considered small talk seemed to outweigh the negatives.

He studied her for a moment, deciding. “Fine. One question."

One sprang you mind immediately. "Did you get this time sand from Draco Malfoy?"

"I don't reveal my sources," he said coolly, though she heard him mumble, "apparently they just galivant around revealing themselves."

Laughing, she stood to leave. "See you next Saturday then, Snape. Enjoy your week.”

He nodded his goodbye and let out a breath when she stepped through the fireplace. 

/* /* /* /*

To say the least, it was jarring to see such a lovely, graceful creature open its mouth to reveal the low baritone of Severus Snape. “Granger. I may be running late today. Get started without me – Minerva will keep the floo open for you.”

The apparition evaporated into a silvery mist, and Ron let out a small huff of amusement. “Still can’t believe his patronus is fucking Bambi.”

“I can’t believe your muggle references lately,” Harry said with raised eyebrows. “Suspicious, if you ask me. What do you think, Hermione?”

She gave a soft hmm. “Well, I did get Teddy all those Disney films. Still, I’ve noticed it too. I think it’s more than just Alex’s help at the shop. I think his new muggle influencer might be of the romantic variety.” She waggled her eyebrows meaningfully toward her freckled friend.

“What are you two on about,” he mumbled, though she noticed how dangerously close his cheeks came to resemble his hair. 

Quickly changing the subject, Ron asked, “How are things going with your project, anyway? You haven’t mentioned Snape in a while.”

“There’s really not much to say. We haven’t made much progress since our powdered horn breakthrough a few weeks ago. It’s just trial and error right now. Trial, and error, and trial, and error, ad infinitum." She gave a disheartened sigh. "Speaking of, I should really get going. Thank you for lunch, Andromeda, it was wonderful.”

With a hug from the older witch, and one from each of the boys, Hermione stepped through the fireplace to her flat. On her current shirt was a perfect handprint of chocolate pudding, a souvenir from Teddy. She changed her top, fixed her hair a bit, and arrived in the familiar office.

In the study there sat a stack of research papers. Intrigued, she began flipping through them. She didn’t know how long she’d been reading before a sound made her spin to see – someone.

It took Hermione a few seconds to recognize what she was looking at. Severus Snape. In muggle clothes. A short-sleeved Henley with dark jeans. 

“Who are you and why are you polyjuiced as Severus Snape?” she laughed, wide-eyed. 

He returned her joke with a glare, brushing away some ash. “I was out running errands in Muggle London. And I see you did not, in fact, get started without me.”

She held up the papers. “Guilty. If you left these out for me as a trap, it worked. But I’m ready to start brewing if you are.”

He began to unpack the equipment they’d need for their first experiment. Hermione was surprised by the revelation that her former professor was actually in decent shape. Something else also caught her curiosity. A flower tattoo, over the faded remains of his Dark Mark. A lily.

“If you’re going to be so worthlessly distracted, I can cast a glamor on my arm as you have,” he said in a bored monotone, continuing to set up the station. Her eyes snapped away; she hadn’t realized she’d been staring at his arm. She started to apologize when her hand flew to the raised flesh of her own forearm – scars she tried to keep invisible. 

“Is it that obvious?” 

He held her gaze for a moment before looking away. “No. There’s a slight shimmer under bright light. I noticed when you lit the cauldrons a few weeks ago. It’s a very well-done concealment.”

She examined the charmed skin of her arm for a moment, running a thumb over the visibly concealed scars. The more she learned about this man, the more she wanted to know. Perhaps the best way to get him to open up was to make the first step.

“Well, you showed me yours,” she said with a shrug, vanishing the glamor. “Souvenir from the war. I just feel like people stare enough at me already without adding this.”

Severus Snape was perhaps the greatest spy in the history of the magical world. Part of this title meant he could always keep his emotions in check. But looking up to see that word carved into her, the wound nearly emanating dark magic, his mask slipped entirely.

He stepped toward her without thinking, taking her wrist to get a better look. His face was twisted in shock and sadness. “Oh, Granger…”

Hemione stared up to the towering man above her. Finally, he met her eyes. “Lestrange?”

She nodded wordlessly.

Suddenly realizing how close they were, he stepped back to the cauldron and swallowed, his face returning to near-normal. “That explains your evasion of knives.” He said lamely.

“Erm. Yeah.” She mumbled awkwardly. 

He cleared his throat. “We should get started.”

Hermione went through the motions of taking arithmancy notes, but the previous scene played on a loop in her head all the while. She had wanted him to open up, but that… was unexpected.


	7. Magic & Microscopes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Couldn't sleep so I thought I'd add a short update to move things along :)

Three months.

They had begun with two dilemmas: first, they needed to find an ingredient to stabilize the time sand. Second, they needed an ingredient to ensure only past memories were restored. The first issue had been resolved in just a handful of weeks, by using dragon horn powder. But the second…

They had been experimenting, with no success, for three months. 

After a fruitless evening with dried dragon heart, they were both feeling dejected yet again. The cynicism hung heavy like a cloud over the room. She had packed her things after a few hours and was standing in front of the floo when she suddenly remembered.

“Snape?” She asked quietly. “I do still get to ask you a question.”

He rolled his eyes. “Well, go on, then.”

She’d really thought about what she wanted to say this week. Not wanting to come on too strong, she'd avoided questions that were too personal. But today she decided to try something different. “What’s something you’d like to ask me?”

It was a few seconds before any sound left his lips, though he already knew what he wanted to ask. What he’d wanted to ask for a while. 

“Why did you save me, Granger?”

The question caught her off guard, though it shouldn’t have. After all, he’d been Voldemort’s most trusted ally, another Death Eater to be defeated. The enemy. But not to her. “Because it was you.” She supplied plainly. “I mean, you… stood between me and a werewolf, once. After Dumbledore was dead, some part of me hoped that you weren’t, um, what you were pretending to be. And even if you were,” she finished quietly, “I knew if it was all true, I hoped it wasn’t really what you wanted to be.” 

Her voice still small, she added, “I wonder if a lot of people on his side couldn’t be who they wanted to be, around such a monster.”

The thought that someone still believed in him then, when all the evidence clearly proved otherwise, left him astonished – though he didn’t show it.

“A nice sentiment.” He said neutrally. “Perhaps there's some truth to that. Well. Good evening, Granger.”

She smiled softly. “Good evening then, Snape.”

/* /* /* /*

The following week Severus waited, somewhat jaded, for Hermione. A stack of research papers regarding daisy root sat to his left, and the ingredient in question was cut four different ways on his right. He already suspected it to be another dead end. Another waste of a Saturday.

He was wrong.

At precisely 3 o’clock, Hermione burst through his floo holding a large box, several rolls of parchment, and beaming like the sun. 

“I’ve got it! This has to be it!”

She knocked the roots off the table to make room for her box without any protests from her former professor. “Look! It might work!” she spread the parchment out before him.

Numbers. Letters. Symbols. Arithmancy. “Granger, what the bloody hell am I looking at?”

Grinning even wider, she exclaimed, “Our solution! It was so simple. We’ve been wasting all this time looking for an ingredient to add – but really we just needed to take something away!”

He glared. “Start making sense, woman.”

“Look here,” she pointed to something that probably meant something; he couldn’t be sure. “I only realized last night, and I haven’t slept since, putting together all the metrics. We have to split the grain.”

Eyes widening with realization, he could only ask, “How?”

From her box she produced a microscope. “Magic and science, of course. It makes so much sense. Half the grain, half the memories. Even if my parents only live to be sixty, they’ll still remember my childhood at least. I can explain the rest.”

Only her childhood? _Our second attempt will be successful,_ the words he’d said in the infirmary that day rang in his head. Well, this potion was meant to be a rough draft of the real one. They might as well give it a shot.

“Alright. Then let's get to work.”


	8. Lavender and Roses

Severus Snape didn’t show it, but he was nervous. Time sand was a volatile and unpredictable substance; splitting it could have any number of unintended consequences. Looking through the microscope now, he felt as though they might as well be splitting an atom.

Sure, Septima had given every assurance the numbers proved it to be safe. He’d warded his study, floor to ceiling, to prevent the rest of the castle from feeling any backlash they might cause. Though it wasn’t his first time using a charmed microscope, he’d practiced on a few grains of beach sand to make sure the splitting spell would work properly. Most reassuringly, though, he already knew when he would die - and it was not today.

Glancing up from the microscope, his younger research partner looked the perfect foil to his state – giddy with excitement and smiling brightly. Each time they made a breakthrough toward their goal, she seemed to glow with delight. For the first time in all the weeks they’d worked together, he let himself truly look at her. Her once bushy hair had been tamed, though it took up the same ridiculous amount of space. Her teeth had achieved a reasonable size. She was conventionally attractive, he realized. Striking, really. How in Merlin’s name could this young, beautiful, irritating witch wind up settling for him? A concept for another time, he decided. Looking away, he shook the idea from his head and stood up, taking a step away from the table.

“Let’s get this over with, then,” he said plainly, drawing his wand. “Apartigo.”

The spell landed on the microscope, which absorbed it and glowed for a moment. They both felt a wave of released magic, which shook the table and surrounding chairs, and knocked a jar from his bookshelf. He ignored the shattered glass and looked again through the lens; the grain had been successfully split in two.

“It appears to have worked,” he said stoically, turning to the list of ingredients required to complete the rest of their potion. “I should have everything else we need by next Saturday.”

Severus had hoped in the excitement of the day, the witch had forgotten about her customary farewell inquiry. It proved to be wishful thinking. 

“Snape, I’ve been wondering-”

“Call the Prophet.” He murmured sardonically. Ignoring his interruption, she continued.

“That week, when you had memories about the future – you talked about things and thought about things that haven’t happened yet. Do you have, erm, I guess for lack of a better way to describe it, memories of those memories?”

It was a question he’d expected sooner. For such a curious person, she’d taken months to address the fact that he had, at least for a while, been in such a unique position as to know his own future. 

“It’s difficult to explain,” he admitted after a long pause, still looking at the parchment proclaiming their ingredients. “The week itself I remember plainly - the things I said or did. But as for my thoughts during that week…” He shook his head. “No. It feels like a dream. Some things come back to me in the moment, but mostly I don’t remember thinking of the future at all. There are a few exceptions. I can picture so clearly the moment I congratulate Draco on his engagement, it might as well have happened already,” he talked on, not looking up to see her look of astonishment, “There are blurry faces of people I haven’t met yet. And seemingly random details.” He finally lifted his eyes to meet hers and said pointedly, “For example, I remember the exact flowers in your hair at your wedding. A crown of roses and lavender.”

“My… oh,” both hands absentmindedly went to her hair. “Really? Married to who?”

With a blank face he drawled, “We agreed on one question, Granger.”

She blinked with owl eyes and sputtered, “B-but you can’t say something like that and then just – just – "

“Just what?” he had a hint of a grin. “Say goodbye?” Raising both eyebrows, he added, “See you next week, Granger.”

Still shocked from his statement, she shook her head and turned to the floo.


	9. Snape's Secret

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, I rated this story explicit for future chapters. There is a scene in this chapter that's sexual, just to warn you.  
> Hope you like it! I'm really excited to write the next chapter :)

“Hermione, what the bloody hell am I looking at?”

She grinned. “Snape said nearly the same thing. It’s the equation for our potion.”

Occupying their usual table at the Spotted Owl, Ginny and Hermione waited for their friend to join them. The quiet pub made it less likely they would be recognized. Of course, there was the added advantage that Katie Bell was a fantastic bartender and would shoo off anyone who bothered them.

Ginny shrugged. “It looks fine, I guess. But didn’t he say your potion would take a year?”

Her smile faltered. “Well, yeah. But we’re making progress at least.” After five months of work, hopefully the potion would just need some tweaking now. Perhaps they would add the wrong half of the time sand. They might need to further study its effects on muggles. Or maybe she was misremembering, and Snape had said ‘within a year’ instead of ‘in a year.’

Her redheaded friend looked past her and smiled brightly, waving to Luna, who returned the smile as she walked to the table. 

“Hello friends,” Luna’s melodic voice joined their conversation. She was wearing deep purple robes with glowing orange moths fluttering throughout the material. Her wand was tucked behind her ear, and she set down a large, empty jar. 

The two girls shared a should-we-ask look, but instead Hermione said, “How are you, Luna? Your last Quibbler was fantastic.”

“You liked it? I thought you’d enjoy the guest piece on Native American potion-making.” Luna noted softly. “Draco helped me write the piece on Gringotts. Oh! Professor Snape came to visit while Draco and I were working at his place; he told us about your brilliant idea to complete your project.”

Brilliant? Had he really said that? Probably not. Luna was always too kind. Still, Hermione felt her cheeks go a bit pink. “Yes, I was just showing Ginny my equations. We’re going to test it out on Saturday.”

Luna smiled brightly. “That’s great news. He seems rather fond of you, Hermione. We had a long discussion of the origins of time sand, too. He hadn’t realized it was brought to earth hundreds of years ago by time-traveling beings from the planet Gallifrey.”

The two girls returned Luna’s serious expression with owl eyes for a moment before she finally laughed softly. “I’m only joking, of course.” 

Ginny let out a loud snort, and Hermione breathed a sigh of relief. 

“I highly doubt he’s fond of me, Luna. He barely acknowledges me when we work together. And every time I speak, he acts like a swarm of billiwigs is buzzing in his ear.”

The blonde gave a soft hmm. “I think that’s just Professor Snape. He shows his feelings in odd ways.”

“Yes, all two of his feelings,” Ginny laughed, “both hatred and irritation.”

Hermione took a sip of her drink. “You might be right, Luna. I think he has a soft side. Did he actually say brilliant?”

/* /* /* /* /*

“Fuck,” Severus mumbled into the darkness of his room.

He’d awoken from another dream of her. Admittedly, these dreams were preferable to the old nightmares of the war he was used to. She was usually standing on the beach in that white dress, the wind tossing her hair around. She’d fidget nervously with her flower crown and then smile up at him, large hazel eyes shining under her long lashes. 

Not tonight. He’d been annoyed with those dreams, but they paled next to what his mind conjured tonight.

It had started with them working together in his study. The details were blurry, but he remembered clearly the moment he bent her over the table, and the sound of her voice moaning his name again and again.

“Fuck,” he groaned louder. 

He’d had an explicit dream. About Hermione Fucking Granger. He could still feel the proof of it, constrained in his pants. How was he going to face her today?

Merlin, but it had been hot. He had to admit she had an incredible body. Something about the way her curls bounced in that dream had been unbelievably sexy. Absentmindedly, his hand dipped into his pajamas. He wondered what she’d look like on top of him with those wild curls. Or with his hands buried in her hair and her lips wrapped around his cock. Moving his hand quickly, he remembered the way she’d moaned his name in the dream and felt himself tipping over the edge.

“Her – my – oh.” He choked out.

After waiting a moment for his breathing to return to normal, he cast a tergo and sighed. 

He was attracted to Hermione Granger.

“Fuck.”

/* /* /* /* /* 

“I know your secret,” Hermione declared with a mischievous smile.

He panicked. After his realization that morning, he’d gotten ready for their weekly meeting like a teenage boy on a first date. Changed his clothes four times, brushed his hair three times. Checked his teeth twice. Was he that obvious? Could she see right through him?

Stony faced, he drawled, “Hello to you as well, Granger. You’ll have to be more specific, as I have many.”

Why was she smiling at him? Circe, but she had a stunning smile. Luckily, she’d tied up her hair into a bun; he did not need any more reminders of his dream than she already provided. He was staring, he realized, and looked away quickly.

She laughed. “You think I’m brilliant. You told Luna. I hoped it would make the front page of the Quibbler but she wouldn’t accept my bribes.”

Oh, thank Merlin. He could breathe normally again. Why did he feel so nervous around her? She was looking at him. Right, she likely wanted a response. “While I begrudgingly admitted your idea is brilliant, I did not use the word in regard to yourself.”

Her smile disappeared. Severus mentally kicked himself. Say something nice. 'You look breathtaking.' No, definitely not that. “However, I would have thrown you out of my office months ago if I did not consider you an intelligent collaborator. Don’t let others’ opinions of you effect you so, Granger. Let’s get to work.”

She seemed to perk up a bit at that. Good. They had a potion to brew.


	10. A Lucky Man

She was gazing up at him hopefully, waiting. His heart dropped. He knew how disappointed she was about to be, and he was the one to do it.

They had finished brewing in less than an hour. Their creation was a deep green, which the arithmancy had accurately predicted. No explosions this time. He’d offered to play the role as guinea pig and decided upon a memory to test: his cousin coming for a visit during the summer of his second year. It was inconsequential to him. Hermione had found and removed it rather easily, leaving him quite impressed.

Having ingested their potion, a faint memory of catching frogs returned – but that was all he could remember about the visit. What was his cousin's name? His memories of the future had returned as well, but equally muddled and half-remembered. Hm. Perhaps instead of restoring half the memories, their concoction restored half-memories. He wondered if her equation was correct, but just misinterpreted. 

Turning to the eager witch, he took a breath. He’d have to do this as gently as possible 

The excitement on her face turned to surprise as he took her hands in his. “Hermione… we knew it wasn’t going to work.”

“W-what do you mean?”

He hesitated. “Well, we replicated my original potion, but it is half as effective. My memories are hazy this time.” He watched her face fall and she went to turn away. 

“Hey, it’s okay,” he murmured, pulling her against him and breathing in the familiar scent of her hair. “We’ll get there. We’ll figure it out.”

She stiffened at the unexpected embrace, but then relaxed into him. Sniffling into his chest, she said, “Thanks, Snape. I know.” She stepped away and wiped her eyes. “Sorry. I’m not usually this emotional.”

“I know,” he said softly, “Your timing is great, though, because I’m not usually the compassionate type.” Turning to walk toward a cupboard, he added, “Luckily, I saved an extra vial of the counter-potion. Of course, after the accident I knew to save two doses.” 

As he uncorked it, he heard Hermione’s frantic “Wait!”

He stopped, looking to her in surprise. “Before you take it,” she said quickly, “I wanted to ask a question.”

He eyed her suspiciously. “Careful, Hermione. You know I can’t tell you about the future.”

Folding her arms, she retorted, “Well you’re the one who brought up my wedding. You had to know I would have a million questions.”

“Of course, I did,” He grinned. After a pause he continued, “Alright. I will tell you who.”

“Really?”

“A very lucky man,” he said simply and downed the vial.

Blinking away the cloud of memories, he looked to the witch standing before him with hands on her hips and a playful smile on her face. Her makeup was smudged slightly from her tears. “Oh, thank you ever so much. I’ll mark my calendar – the only compliment ever given by Severus Snape.”

He studied her for a moment before admitting, “That isn’t entirely true. I was lying earlier about my conversation with Luna. I did call you brilliant, Granger.” He added quickly, “Don’t let it go to your head.”

Her smile grew. Very lucky, indeed.


	11. The Answer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry everyone! I uploaded a new chapter a couple days ago and immediately decided I hated it. 
> 
> Here's a much, much better replacement :)

The only light in the bedroom was that of a low fire, but it was enough that Severus could drink in the site of his breathtaking witch beneath him. He was taking her slowly, enjoying the feel of her soft skin against his, admiring the way her breasts bounced with every thrust, gazing into her lusty honey-brown eyes before noticing how the light glistened in her wild curls.

He bent down to capture her lips with his own. Something about kissing her during sex felt so incredibly sensual. So intimate.

As her hands traveled the length of his back, his movement grew faster. No longer holding back, he could feel her breath become quicker, heavier. The pressure of her nails against his skin quickly dissolved any remaining self-control.

“Oh my god, Severus, I’m about to – I’m in going to -” but she abandoned words in favor of something loud and incoherent. “Good girl,” he murmured lowly. He worshiped the way she came, arching in ecstasy and gasping his name. She rode out her orgasm while he continued to thrust, and it was quickly followed by his own groan of completion. With a few final movements he emptied completely into his witch, collapsing into a panting, boneless state of bliss beside her.

After a moment he turned on his side and gathered her against him, pulling her back against his chest, and nestling his face into her hair. He closed his eyes, breathing in the wonderfully familiar smell of her.

“That was fantastic.”

“It always is,” he nuzzled her ear with his nose, winding his arms lazily around her waist.

She gave a soft hmm. “By the way, did you remember to get extra bitterroot?”

He tightened his arms affectionally around her, too tired still to open his eyes. “What are you on about, ‘Mine?” he murmured lowly into her hair.

“Bitterroot. For our experiment.”

The words skimmed the outer surface of his mind. Experiment?

“For my parents, Severus.”

“Your…?”

His eyes opened to an empty bed.

Another dream. His hand touched the cool sheets next to him. Severus Snape was alone, and for the first time in many years, he wished that he weren’t.

/* /* /* /* /* /*

She’d arrived precisely on time for another Saturday of experiments, and they exchanged the usual pleasantries before getting to work. He avoided gazing directly at her, still uncomfortable with the newly discovered feelings. After twenty minutes of silent parallel tasks, he summoned the incredible courage to glance up. 

“Merlin’s pants, Granger. If you grate that root any finer, we’ll be inhaling it. Is my memory going, or did you sleep through the first year of potions?”

Perhaps his tone was more cutting than he intended, but the root was now unusable. When she looked up, he noticed wet cheeks and shining eyes. Oh no. He remembered this. And he knew exactly what was about to happen in the split second before it did.

She buried her face into his chest, sobbing. He immediately stiffened at the contact. Every instinct screaming to push her away – Severus Snape was famously terrible at dealing with feelings – but some small part of his mind made him decide to try his hand at comforting her, which manifested in the act of awkwardly patting her head.

“I’m sorry,” she hiccupped against him. “I just – I just got into my head thinking about my parents. I’ve got a portkey to Australia tomorrow to check on them, and I’m so bloody nervous about what will happen when the potion is finished. What if they’re upset at me for sending them away? What if they prefer their new life without me?”

After a moment of her hysterics, Severus noticed that she seemed to calm herself enough to step away and wipe her eyes.

“I apologize. Cerce, you already think I’m a child, and now you’ve seen me cry twice in a month.”

Easily conjuring a tissue, he droned softly, “I do not think you are a child.”

Hermione blew her nose and then smiled bashfully at him. “Thank you.”

“Your emotions are… understandable.” He said quietly. “I lost my own mother while I was at Hogwarts. She passed away in her sleep. When a person occupies such a significant part of your life, you never feel truly the same after they are gone.”

A small gasp escaped in response to his admission, fingers rushing to cover her mouth. “How awful! I can’t imagine. Is your father still alive?”

He nodded, staring intently at a passing grindylow just outside his enchanted underwater window. “Yes. We were never close; he worked often. He was a muggle man who didn’t care for magic. After mum passed, we grew apart.”

There was a solid minute of silence, before the sensation of her hand on his nearly made him jump. She was gazing up to him with a sad smile. 

“Thank you for sharing that with me,” she whispered. In reply he provided a curt nod.

“If you’re very nearly composed, Granger, we should get back to work.”

She sighed dejectedly. “Yes, I suppose we should. It’s just that, all these ingredients we’ve tested have lead us nowhere. Of course I knew it wouldn’t be so simple as asking the time sand nicely to only apply to the last twenty-five years.” She gave a sad sort of laugh, but then froze with realization.

“Snape...” She said slowly. “Has this sand been used before? To travel?”

He shook his head. “Not that I know of.”

Her eyes were saucers in excitement and surprise. “I need a quill!”

In amazement, he watched as she grabbed her beaded bag, removed the parchment with their equation and got to work. She was a hummingbird, vibrating with movement and adding more symbols and numbers into various places. After a few moments she looked up to him with a wide smile.

“It works! Look, it works!”

He looked at the parchment, then back to her. “What works?”

“I think this is it. Snape, we’re going to need a time turner.”


	12. The Magic Word

"A time turner,” she repeated to him, obvious confusion across her face. “This could be the answer. Why do you look as though you’ve finished a glass of spoiled milk?"

His scowl only deepened. “I’d prefer the milk,” he murmured.

A lip popped between her teeth. Not even that sight could cheer him up now. 

“Your epiphany reminded me of a memory I’d wiped away. Yes, a time turner will work. Draco Malfoy will lend us the one stored away in his basement, hidden amidst the hoard of dark objects left by his father.”

“And this is not fantastic news, why?”

Pinching his nose in anticipation of a headache, he explained, “He is not aware of its existence. We will need to search in his storage, which means we will require Auror help. And we can’t exactly call the ministry to help us comb through piles of illegal objects, to find an illegal object, to brew an illegal potion.”

Her shoulders slumped. “What are we going to do?”

“Luckily,” sarcasm audibly dripped from his voice, “you have a trusted friend in possession of such skills.”

“Harry!” her eyes lit up again. 

“Potter,” he practically spat.

/* /* /* /*

She owled Harry, who happily agreed to assist. He owled Draco, who bitterly agreed to assist.

After Lucius passed, Severus found himself playing a more active role in his godson’s life. Sure, he’d been around enough as the boy was growing up and had served as a mentor during the Hogwarts years, but Severus Snape never cared much for children. As an adult, Draco had matured into a much more tolerable individual. The young man poured two cups of tea, handed one to his father figure, and then took his seat on the chair beside him.

“What exactly am I doing for you now?” Draco sounded exasperated. “For someone who so enjoys a newly unindebted lifestyle, you ask plenty of favors.”

“Only access to your storage facilities. You are in possession of a time turner, which we require.”

He nodded, staring into the swirling liquid thoughtfully. “I’ve had many of father’s pieces evaluated already, but a considerable amount has yet to be examined. I suppose you know of its presence because of your...” he gestured vaguely to the older man’s head.

“Indeed. We will locate the piece. Unfortunately, as I mentioned, we will require the help of Prince Potter.”

The blonde’s face twisted into a grimace. “I was quite looking forward to never sharing his company again.”

Severus made a sound of agreement.

“You’ll be joining us, then?” The young Malfoy inquired, setting down the cup with a bored expression. “It would be preferable not to find myself alone with such celebrity. Might be overcome with admiration and swoon – I’ll need you there to catch me.”

He gave a curt nod. “Granger and I will assist, yes.”

Another grimace. “Granger? Why on earth does Potter’s little Mudb-“

“Do. Not.” Severus spoke sharply, “Use that word in regard to her.”

Draco scoffed with surprise. “Made a friend, did we, Professor?”

Sinking back into his chair, Severus tapped one finger on the table beside him in contemplation. Of course, he knew it was best to avoid revealing the future to those around him as much as possible, but would telling Draco really cause any harm? And though he cared for the young man before him, he couldn’t resist the temptation to witness the bewilderment on his face.

“You’ll do well to watch your tongue around my future wife.” He said simply.

For a second Draco looked as though he’d been slapped, before exploding into laughter.

“Godfather,” he finally gasped, wiping tears away. “You have a fantastic sense of humor.”

An eyebrow rose. “Do I appear to be laughing, Draco?”

“Severus. Please. You can’t possibly be serious.”

“Gravely,” he drawled. “One word out of line to her, and I will explain to Narcissa precisely why her efforts to find you a girlfriend have… proved unsuccessful.”

The blonde’s face went scarlet. “What are you talking about,” he mumbled nervously.

Of course, he wouldn’t involuntarily out his godson. But he could bluff.

Severus didn’t answer, but instead held his gaze until finally the young man looked away. “Fine then. I can be civil. Shall we begin Saturday?” 

/* /* /* /*

“Nana, I want my dino!” came Teddy’s small voice. He was on tiptoes, fingers just grazing the shelf of the reptile in question.

“What’s the magic word?” Andrometa asked absently.

“Accio!” he shouted, and the plastic dinosaur gave a little lurch. 

She laughed. “I was thinking of ‘please.’ Here you are, Teddy.” As the boy decorated his velociraptor in moving stickers, his grandmother gave a soft sigh. She joined Harry, Hermione and Ron in the living room. “I wish Edward was still around to see how much Teddy is like his mum. It’s just uncanny.”

Ron placed a supportive hand on her shoulder. “How are you, Dromeda? I wish we could help out more.”

She offered a watery smile. “You three do plenty. It’s nice, having Teddy around. It’s like a piece of her is still here.” Regaining her composure, she asked, “Are you taking him to the burrow for the day, Harry?”

He shook his head. “No, I can’t today. Got to help Mione with something. But Ron offered to take him there for a visit. Actually, Mione, we should be going before we’re late.”

Taking his offered arm, they said goodbyes and disapperated with a soft pop.

“Oh,” Hermione said, realizing they had appeared in Harry’s kitchen. “Did you need to get something before we go to the Manor?”

His face was all concern. “You’ve been biting your nails all afternoon, Mione. Are you sure you can do this? I know what that place is for you.”

With a gulp, she shook her head. “No, I-I want to help.”

Harry looked unconvinced. “If you start to feel uneasy, promise me you’ll say something?”

She placed an affectionate hand on his cheek. “Thank you, Harry. I will. I’m so grateful you’re doing this. I know you’re risking so much, with work, coming along to assist us.”

“Are you kidding? Spending some quality time with Snape and Malfoy, elbow-deep in dark magic – what could be better?” He chuckled. “Now, come on, let’s go to the world’s most dangerous antique store and get us a time turner.”

With another pop, they left Harry’s empty kitchen behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is kind of a filler chapter. Really I'm just writing this to keep myself occupied in-between updates of Carpe Ominia by BluJae (seriously I'm obsessed with that amazing fic) haha


	13. Antiquing

When they arrived at the manor, Harry still had his friend in high spirits and was determined to keep it that way. “Speaking of antiques - remember when we took Author to that muggle antique store?”

“The owner talked for hours about every little item,” she laughed. “And Merlin, he’d still be there if we hadn’t dragged him out.”

Her smile faltered as they started the short walk to Malfoy’s front door. Harry gave her hand a squeeze in support. 

She took a deep breath and saw Severus and Draco walking out to meet with them. Something about Snape’s presence seemed to calm her and she found herself smiling at him.

“I come bearing gifts,” said Harry, passing gloves to them.

Hermione quickly put them on, twisting her fingers to watch the silver dragon hide shimmer in the sunlight. “These are exquisite,” she murmured.

“And useful,” added Harry. “They should keep you safe from any magical backlash caused by tactile connection.” 

“So. We can touch things,” Draco clarified with an eyeroll. “Still complicating everything, Potter.”

Hermione let out a huff. “Still exuding civility, huh, Malfoy?”

He started to reply, but quickly closed his mouth and turned to Harry. “And why are your gloves so incredibly fabulous? Afraid of not being the special one for a moment?”

With a smirk, Harry put his rainbowed fingers together and then drew them apart. A bubble materialized before them. “Pocket universes. If an item seems dangerous, we can still examine it without letting its magic affect us. I called in a favor from Kingsley to borrow these.”

Draco was surprised to find the bubble didn’t pop when he touched it, instead having a texture closer to glass. He shrugged as Harry vanished it. “Well. Storage is this way. Let’s find the bloody thing already.”

Moving through an impressive number of wards, the unlikely group found their way down into the manor to an empty hallway. Draco murmured some words and a door appeared. He fished through his pockets, removing an old key and throwing open the door.

“Daddy’s treasure chest,” he joked. Hermione stared with wide eyes at the sheer number of objects around the room. “Don’t put on any jewelry. And, Granger, try not to open any books.”

Hermione and Severus made their way to a disorganized shelf, while Harry and Draco started examining an old wardrobe. 

“Powdered dragon eggshell,” Harry noticed. “Smart. Keeps the Chizpurfles away.”

Draco nodded. “We had a bad infestation when I was young. Father made sure it never happened again, especially to such a priceless collection.”

A particularly menacing-looking portrait made a rude face at Harry and he turned it away. “Sorry. This can’t be easy, going through his old things. We appreciate it.”

“I’m not doing it for you, Potter,” he grumbled.

They worked in silence for a while before Harry heard him add, “But, you’re welcome.”

On the other side of the room, Hermione watched her former Professor run diagnostics on a brass oil lamp. “Think we could wish for a time turner?”

Not glancing up, he only replied sternly, “Jins are nothing to meddle with, Granger.”

Excitement enveloped her being. “Is it really a magic lamp?”

He set it down very slowly, carefully, looking serious as the grave. “No; it’s quite ordinary.”

“You’re awful,” she said with mirth. “This pocket watch has some temporal charms on it. But I think it only adjusts to whichever time zone you’re in.”

He glanced up. “That’s the Malfoy crest. Likely an heirloom.” 

She placed it to the side for Draco. 

“Oh, look, a basilisk fang!” She held up the tooth in question. “I haven’t seen one since the war. Wonder why Mr. Malfoy owned this?”

Severus was attempting to charm a box open as he talked. “As a collector of dark artifacts, Lucius likely knew how to properly handle certain objects – and destroy them, if need be,” - the lid opened with a click- “ah, it’s empty.”

“No, see there,” she pointed to a small latch on the bottom. “There’s a hidden compartment, charmed so you don’t notice it.”

“Observant,” he grinned at her. She felt heat rise to her face at his compliment.

They worked like that for a few hours before Draco called a house elf to prepare dinner. “We can eat in the dining room. I think the dust is getting to me down here.”

Harry and Severus both noticed Hermione’s face pale. Of course, Harry knew why – she’d much prefer to avoid that room again. He gave her hand a little squeeze. “Let’s call it a night, huh? We can come back tomorrow fresh at it.”

Draco shrugged. “Works for me.”

As they packed up their things and started to leave, Hermione spotted the watch. “Oh, Malfoy, I found this. It’s got your family crest on it; Snape thought it might be an heirloom.”

He took it from her cautiously. “It does. Thank you.”

“You’ve been humane to me all evening,” she observed with no small amount of suspicion. “What’s going on?”

He lifted a shoulder. “Your boyfriend asked me to be.”

She blinked. “My – Harry? Since when do you care about what he has to say?”

Draco gave her an odd look. “I don’t. I was talking about Severus.” 

She stared at him. 

Eyes widening in realization, he turned to look at his godfather. “Oy, Severus! You told me and not her?”

“She’ll figure it out,” he drawled evenly, still appraising a ruby-red neckless. 

Hands on her hips, she looked between the two of them. “Figure what out? What’s going on?”

But Draco only held up his hands in mock-surrender. “Not for me to say, Granger. Take it up with our resident seer-wannabe.”

The seer-wannabe grinned. “Until tomorrow,” he offered in way of farewell before disapparating away with a dramatic spin.

“Always the theatrics with him." Draco shook his head As the other two popped away.


	14. Champagne

Harry and Hermione once again appeared in his kitchen. He noticed she was shaking slightly. “How are you feeling? That couldn’t have been easy.”

After a long, uneven breath, she managed, “I’m fine, really. Thanks for getting me out of there.”

“I could floo Ron? We could have a quiet night in, just us three – if you don’t want to be alone.”

Curls bounced as she hastily shook her head. “Honestly, I need to decompress and get ready for tomorrow. A long bath and a good book should do the trick.”

Harry flashed an understanding smile. “Alright, ‘Mione. Just let me know if you need anything at all, yeah?”

With a nod of agreement and a farewell, she turned and disapparated away. The moment she’d gone, Harry walked to his study. From a wire cage, a small snowy owl tilted his head in interest as Harry scribbled a quick note.

The owl didn’t skip a beat when Harry opened the cage door, hopping quickly onto his arm. “Good boy, Creevey. Take this to Draco Malfoy. Don’t leave without a note back. And you’ve dibs on an extra rat if you’re quick, alright?”

/* /* /* /*

The sun was only just rising when the Auror appeared the following morning. The sky was blended pinks and purples, reflecting into the pond behind Malfoy Manor. Birds chirped, the only sound to accompany his footsteps on the journey alone to the main door. After seeing Hermione’s condition the previous day, Harry had quickly sent an owl to his old nemesis. He explained her issue with the manor and hoped to get some extra work done early so she could spend less time there. Part of him was even optimistic they could find the time piece before she arrived in the afternoon.

After a sharp knock, the large door flew open almost too quickly, revealing an indifferent Draco. 

“Potter.”

“Malfoy. Thanks for doing this.”

The blonde stepped aside to let him enter. “One less Griffindor pest to deal with. And the sooner we find this thing, the sooner you can leave me be.”

They made the way quickly to Malfoy Manor’s hidden room and worked in silence again.

Draco was the first to speak. “You know, father would be rolling in his grave at the thought of Auror Potter meddling with his collection.”

Harry laughed. “I imagine Kingsley would have words if he ever found out, too. Honestly I’m still in shock you let me help at all.”

He lifted a shoulder. “This part of the manor always gave me the creeps. Too much dark magic. Mother and I avoid it – I wouldn’t want to be alone in here.”

“I can work by myself, if you’re uncomfortable.” Harry heard himself offering.

His offer was met with a scoff. “You take me for a moron, Potter? I’m not leaving you alone with my family’s valuables.”

“Suit yourself.” He found a small golden box and got to work examining the charms on it. “How does your mother feel about having the Boy Who Lived Again for a houseguest?”

The Prophet had taken to calling him that. It was their headline following the Battle of Hogwarts, shattering previous sales records. Of course, Harry’s story in its entirety had been divulged only to the Quibbler, which had sold far more the following day.

“She doesn’t know. After father passed, she started travelling. I think this house has too many memories – good and bad. She refuses to sell it, though.”

His usual aloof demeanor slipped for a moment, and Harry saw the pain on his face. Quickly changing the subject, he mentioned, “Luna says you’ve become friends, yeah?”

A curt nod was his response.

“How’d that happen?”

The Slytherin set down some papers he’d been reading and answered, “It’s Luna. Lock her in a room with the Dark Lord for fifteen minutes and they’d have made matching bracelets.”

Harry chuckled, but Draco added quietly, “Actually, when the Dark Lord captured her, I’d sneak down to check on her. Bring her food. We talked a lot. She was my only real friend for a long time.”

“Oh,” was all he could say.

“In school she always struck me as a bit… odd. My Slytherin friends despised her. But after you graduate and realize Hogwarts houses are arbitrary, suddenly that sort of nonsense doesn’t matter so much.”

The Auror gave a sympathetic nod. “There’s a lot of truth to that. And we’ve all changed since the Hogwarts days.”

His eyes darted upward to see Draco staring at him strangely. He felt blood rush to his face, though he wasn’t sure why. For a long moment, neither dared to move. Finally, Draco looked away with annoyance.

“Potter, you’ve been poking that box like a child with a play wand. Did you show up here to waste my time?”

“I’m trying to open the bloody thing,” frustration was evident in his voice.

Draco scoffed. “Well. That’s my family crest on the front. Here.” 

Not bothering with magic, Draco easily slid the latch aside and opened the box. Inside lay a thin gold chain necklace. Four circular bands elegantly encased a miniature hourglass.

“Oh.” Harry said dumbly. He glanced up to his former classmate, realizing they were close enough that shoulders were pressed together.

Draco stared down at the necklace for a long moment before finally meeting his gaze.

Harry wasn’t sure how long they stood there, frozen. Everything seemed to still, and he absently wondered if the hourglass affected the way time moved around them. Something strange burned in the blonde’s intense look that he couldn’t interpret. Suddenly Draco’s focus snapped away from Harry’s eyes, down to his mouth, and almost instantly he felt soft lips meet his own.

It was a chaste kiss. Draco's lips were gone as quickly as they'd come; he stumbled backward, eyes widening in shock of his own actions. 

“I – I didn’t mean – Merlin – “

“Hey,” Harry was still blinking with surprise, but concerned at how upset the blonde was. “It’s alright. It’s-“

“N-no, I didn’t mean it, I didn’t-“

“I did.” Harry stepped closer and laid his hand against Draco’s jawline. 

He stared wordlessly back, bewildered. 

Harry’s thumb traced an unhurried pathway down to lips, and his head bent slowly to meet Draco’s mouth again. His soft kiss lingered a moment before he pulled back and stared steadily. 

“We should celebrate,” Harry murmured lowly, glancing to the necklace. 

“I’ve… got champagne,” came a breathless whisper in return.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's not HG/SS but I just discovered Drarry and I love them. Plus they'll play a role in the story later.
> 
> Did Draco have better luck with the box because he's a Malfoy, or did Harry not even think to try the latch first? Maybe we'll never know.


	15. Gryffindor Courage

On Thursday, Hermione was the first one to arrive at the Spotted Owl Bar. She made some small talk with Katie before ordering the usual picture of beer and three glasses. Luna and Ginny quickly joined her. Luna discussed her ideas for the next issue of the Quibbler for some time, which Hermione thought was fascinating. Ginny brought up an article about Quidditch from the last issue, which was decidedly less fascinating. Her thoughts drifted to the memory potion and her arithmancy for some time, before she realized her blonde friend was talking to her.

“We got lunch at that new place in Hogsmeade,” Luna’s dreamy voice was saying. “He transfigured his nose into this ridiculous thing so no one would recognize him. You know how Harry likes his privacy. Anyway, he told me the good news about your time turner!”

Curls bounced as Hermione looked around nervously. “Not so loud, Luna,” she hissed. 

Luna covered her mouth for a moment before apologizing. “I forget it’s top-secret. But, it’s great news. Oh, he also mentioned he’s met someone.”

“Finally,” Ginny sat down between her friends with another picture of beer. “He came out ages ago. I keep telling him we all support him in theory AND in practice.”

“I think he’s just been busy at work. That’s always his excuse when Ron and I bring it up.”

Ginny nodded. “Well, I can understand that. I for one am still quite happily single. How are things with Rolf, Luna?”

“Wonderful,” she sighed breathlessly, with sudden heavy eyelids. “He’s so… unique.”

Hermione smiled. “You two make a great pair.”

“And how’s the main man in your life, ‘Mione?” Luna asked.

She rolled her eyes, but a slight smile betrayed amusement. “Very funny. Well, he’s been tired, really. You know he’s getting older. I feel like he tries to be playful, but he just doesn’t have the energy anymore.” She ignored their bemused expressions and added, “Though, I got him a new mouse toy this week that he’s absolutely obsessed with. He always perks up at that.”

The girls shared a look before bursting into laughter.

When the redhead caught her breath she explained, “She was talking about your bat, not your bloody Kneazle.”

“You – oh, Snape?” She stammered, going a bit pink. “He’s not – I mean – I wouldn’t say that he’s really my….“

With a gasp of exaggerated surprise, Ginny clutched at imaginary pearls. “’Mione has a crush!”

“It’s not…” she paused, considering. 

True, she’d had a bit of a juvenile crush on the professor in her sixth year. She certainly still admired the way he brewed. And wasn’t her face quite warmer than typical at the thought of Snape being called the ‘main man’ in her life?

Oh no, she finally realized. She had a crush on Severus Snape.

“Maybe a bit,” she admitted bashfully. 

Ginny shrugged and took a sip of her drink. “I can’t deny his voice is borderline irresistible. Is he at least less of a greaseball since our school days?”

Hermione nodded. “It doesn’t matter. We have everything we need to finish the potion – I’m giving him the turner on Saturday, and we’ll be done by next week, and then I’ll probably never see him again.”

But the two girls noticed a pang of misery in her voice. “If that’s the case,” Luna said casually, “you should ask him out.”

Hermione’s drink rather suddenly sprayed from her mouth. 

“She’s got a point, ‘Mione,” Ginny said as her brunette friend grabbed for a napkin sheepishly. “Worst he can say is no.”

“That is NOT the worst he can say,” a wave of terror and embarrassment overcame her. “He’d laugh in my face! He’d probably find a way to give me detention.”

Ginny punched her shoulder playfully. “Where’s that Gryffindor courage! Hey, this Saturday we’ll come over and help you get ready before you see him. You’re gorgeous, ‘Mione. He’d be crazy not to say yes to a drink with you. You should wear that black dress, the one from your birthday.”

Luna nodded eagerly. “It’ll be fun! I’ve been learning some new makeup charms. Please, ‘Mione?”

“Oh, fine, I guess so.”

/* /* /*

When Hermione arrived on Saturday with the time turner, Severus thought his heart might stop. 

She was wearing a form-fitting but modest black dress. It accentuated every part of her perfectly, he thought. Her hair looked – different. Good. He couldn’t tell precisely what she did to it. Her lips looked deliciously red, and her skin must have been charmed for she was practically glowing. 

He had appreciated the aesthetics of her for some time. But now she was dazzling. He only gaped at her visibly for a moment before composing himself.

“Granger,” he managed smoothly, despite every drop of moisture suddenly vanishing from his mouth. “You’ve brought the necklace?”

“Hey, Snape. Yeah. Good news!” She unsheathed the neckless in question. The way her hips were moving as she walked toward him made it difficult to focus on her words. “The turner only had an hour reversal charm on it, but Ron is brilliant at that stuff. He figured out a way to augment it to years, so it should be ready to go.” 

A terrible feeling swept over him. That bloody freckled redhead. Did they have a date tonight? The Gryffindor princess was obviously dressed to impress someone, and he remembered her swooning over Weasley during their Hogwarts years. Was she just stopping by before rushing off with him? The thought of her with anyone else made his head nearly spin. She was supposed to be his. 

“What were you thinking,” he hissed, “letting that freckled dimwit meddle with something so delicate. He could have ruined it!”

As her face colored, Severus realized he’d crossed a line, but couldn’t manage to quell the crushing anger inside. 

“Well, Ron can’t be that daft – at least it didn’t blow up in his face!”

Severus prickled at the reference to his accident with the time sand. “Miss Granger,” he growled, “You obviously have somewhere to be with your little friend. I’ll finish this damned potion myself and you can finally be out of my hair.”

He snatched the turner from her hand. It brought him no enjoyment that she was blinking tears away. Oh, he’d gone too far, he knew, but this hurt and jealousy made him feel like a glass overflowing, and he needed to do something with the excess emotion. As usual, he lashed out.

“If that’s really how you feel,” she said almost inaudibly, “You can just send me the potion by owl. Have a good life, Severus Snape.”

And then she was gone. Severus felt his heart sink. Oh, no. In a single moment he’d ruined everything. He stared at the floo behind her for long minutes, not knowing what in Merlin’s name to do.


	16. Full Moon

The final brew was luminescent, glowing a brilliant pearl white. Gazing down into the black cauldron, Severus mused that it quite resembled seeing the full moon on a cloudless night. It was undeniably the potion master’s magnum opus; certainly, this was the most difficult, most complex potion he’d ever sought to invent. Had it been legal for him to publish his research, there was no doubt it would have made him famous. By all accounts he should be feeling quite pleased.

Instead, he felt sick.

‘Have a nice life, Severus Snape.’

Hermione Granger’s final farewell had been playing on a loop in the background of his thoughts for the last two days. The moment she’d fled his study, the professor’s mood became more sour than a pickled ashwinder egg. Pacing now, his mind was whirling desperately, attempting to find a way to fix this. 

Could he use the time turner to jump back and Silencio himself? No, the Weasley boy had augmented it to travel through years now. Damn him for being helpful, for once. Time travel was unpredictable; shifting back an entire year could have any number of unintended consequences. Desperate as he was, he knew better than to risk it.

Could he show up on his knees, begging her forgiveness? No, he didn’t even know where she lived. He needed an excuse to get her here. 

The worst of his thoughts had struck him late on Saturday night: what if his glimpses of the future were only glimpses of a possible future? What if, in a matter of minutes, he’d managed to steer their lives into some parallel universe?

What if he never saw her again?

It felt like a dragon was sitting on his chest.

A sudden knock startled him from his pacing. He quickly disillusioned the white potion and collected himself before barking, “Enter!”

When the door creaked open, his tone settled into respectful smoothness. “Ah. Headmistress. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Seven detentions and four hundred house points in one day,” she announced, closing the door quickly behind her. “Possibly a new record for you, Severus.”

He grunted.

She crossed the room and a palm settled to his shoulder. “I didn’t need to count Griffyndor’s points to know something isn’t right, my boy. You’ve been storming through these halls like an erumpent with a stomachache. And you missed dinner.”

“Wasn’t hungry,” he grumbled.

The woman sighed. “Talk to me, my friend.”

He regarded her with a long look before turning away. “Only six months ago I realized she wasn’t a swotty third year with a bush for hair. Now that I’ve recognized she is…” he swallowed hard. “Well, I’ve ruined it utterly, anyway. It doesn’t matter.” 

“Oh deary. I’m sure you haven’t. Between your stubbornness and her determination, if you want to be together, nothing could stand in your way.”

His voice lost it’s usual gruff as he let out a pathetic, “She-she doesn’t want me.”

The headmistress placed her hand on his. “She will. She has to, of course. It just takes time.”

Shaking his head, he countered, “No. It’s supposed to be now. It was supposed to happen when the potion is complete.” He canceled his disillusionment charm and motioned to the cauldron. “Somehow I did something wrong. I think… I’ve changed it. I’ve ruined that future.”

His shoulders slumped. 

Without hesitating, Minerva embraced the dejected man before her. “I’m so sorry. You’re a strong man, Severus; you’ll make it through this. With or without Hermione Granger.” She took a step back and added, “Let me know if you need anything at all. Time off, a cup of tea, a shoulder or an ear. Anything.”

Squaring himself back up, Severus gave a curt nod. “Thank you, Minerva. I appreciate your concern.”

He stared at the door long after she’d closed it behind her.

Eyes lifting to the simmering caldron, he squinted in thought. If it was true that his visions of the future had only been one possible timeline, how could he be sure this potion was the correct one?

They would still need to test the potion, then.

They would still need to test the potion!

She would have to come. He could explain - he could talk to her. He could fix this.

He very nearly jumped to his desk to gather a quill and parchment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry, this feels more like a half-chapter. My 2020 resolution was to finish a story (I've started a hundred fics and haven't finished a single one) but I've been so busy with other things. I'm a single mom to a son with disabilities, my best friend is dealing with cancer treatments. I live in the US and COVID-19 has definitely affected things. I want to re-write this story someday when I have more time so I can add more details. Stay safe and healthy everyone!


	17. Perfect timing

As par for the course on Monday mornings, the desk of Auror Potter was littered with messages. Neatly transfigured paper owls from all across the Ministry hooted and hopped about, vying for his attention. Harry liked to amuse himself by predicting the sender based on the shape and mannerisms of each folded note before opening them. For example, the simple paper airplane twitching on the right corner of his desk was most certainly from Timothy in The Department of Muggle Affairs – a wizard brilliant at everything, save charms. The gleeful Sweetish Short-Snout Dragon strutting about was quite definitely his head of DMLE, congratulating him on his most recent case. And that pacing paper chimera…

Oh, he recognized that one. Best open that first.

And so it was only a few hours later when the Boy Who Lived Twice found himself stepping into a tidy office in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. “Busy?”

Hermione nearly jumped out of her seat at the sudden sound of his voice. “Why hello, Auror Potter,” she beamed.

“Thought we might get lunch,” he explained with a shrug, leaning casually against the doorframe. “Cafeteria’s got a brilliant shepherd’s pie on Mondays.”

Years of training in occulmancy, spying, and general secret-keeping did the auror little good when it came to Hermione. She neatly set aside her paperwork aside and studied him with folded arms and narrowed eyes. “Tomas or Selena?”

“She was just worried about you, ‘sall. Asked me to check in. I’m grateful you’ve got friends in this department.”

Nodding agreement, she smiled. “You know what? Shepard’s pie sounds delightful.”

At a vacant table, the two settled comfortably into opposite chairs. Harry favored eating at the Ministry cafeteria; it was one of the few places he could enjoy a meal without being interrupted. “What’s got you down, ‘Mione?”

The witch shook her head and carefully broke through the golden crust of her pie. “I’d rather not talk about it.”

Wordlessly, he turned to his own lunch. She swallowed, suddenly returning cutlery to the table. “Well, if you must know, there was a bloke I quite fancied.”

His eyebrows rose in surprise, but then quickly returned in disappointment. “Ah. Was?”

“Was. Yeah. But it isn’t important anymore. Let’s talk about something else.”

“Well, I caught a wizard in Norfolk counterfeiting muggle money who -”

“It’s just,” she interrupted with no small amount of exasperation, “I didn’t realize how much I really did fancy him, until I tried to tell him how I feel. And, well, it all went horribly.”

Nodding, his hand came to rest on hers. Over the years, Harry had found the best way to support his friend was by biting his tongue.

“It’s all ruined now. Anyway, it’s fine. I’m fine. I don’t want to-”

“-to talk about it?” Harry supplied with an amused grin. “’Mione. Vent if you need to.”

With a grateful smile, she relaxed a bit. “Nah, I’m alright, really. Hey, let’s discuss your more successful love life instead.”

He blinked in surprise. “News travels fast, huh?”

Hermione laughed. “You’re Harry Potter. If you put sugar in your tea, it’ll be on the front page of the Prophet tomorrow.” In response to his worried look, she added in a low voice, “Don’t worry. Your secret’s safe. Luna just happened to mention it. Tell me about him.”

Attempting to hide his discomfort, he took another bite of pie and chewed slowly. Of course, he’d realized this conversation would happen eventually. “Well. He’s…” Harry waved his hand, attempting to accio the right words, “quite… erm… into writing. Recently.”

If he could meet Hermione’s eye, he would have noticed the amusement there. “Ever so articulate, Harry. What’s his name?”

“I shouldn’t say. He isn’t out yet.”

“Anyone I know, then?”

Harry knew his attempts to sound casual were in vain. “Oh, probably. He went to Hogwarts with us.”

Her face changed. “Uh huh. Was he in our year?”

“Erm. Yeah.”

“Slytherin?”

Harry’s eyes shot up. Before he could reply, she sighed irritably. “You’re dating Malfoy.”

It hadn’t been a question, and he found he couldn’t answer. 

“Well Harry. I can’t say I’m not disappointed.”

“Mione…” He pleaded. “Sure, okay, he was a tosser when we were kids, but he’s changed! Really. I’m not asking for you and Ron to be okay with it now, but maybe eventually, if you give him a second chance… maybe some day you’d be okay with the idea of – ”

“What? Harry, I don’t care who you date. I just meant that I owe Ron ten gallons. Can’t believe he figured it out before I did.”

When his mouth popped open in surprise, she mused, “Though I really should have. You and Malfoy were obsessed with each other in school, and then suddenly you have a new lover after our trip to his manor. It adds up.”

Too aware of the heat in his face, Harry managed to mumble, “I wasn’t obsessed.” His friend flashed a knowing smile, and he felt almost overwhelmed with gratefulness for her support. “Well, okay. Maybe a bit.”

/* /* /*

After reading the same paragraph for the third time, Hermione had given up on completing her Ministry paperwork for the night. Too many thoughts clouded her focus. She flopped on to the couch next to her familiar and sighed.

“Of all people, it’s Malfoy. Can you believe it, Crooks?” The orange ball of fur offered a noncommittal purr. The picture of comfort, Hermione Granger wore her favorite purple robe and slippers, absently running her free hand over the large kneazle. “He was such a git in school, but we’ve all changed since then. Well, most of us. Apparently, Snape is the same old cruel, unpleasant…” 

She sighed. Was he, though?

During the last year, she had seen small glimpses of the man who awoke in that hospital bed, promising her a cure. The man who had looked to her with kind eyes and soft words. Had she deceived herself into thinking he could become that person again?

In any matter, she could be through with him once and for all. Through with his constant sarcasm and criticism. Through with him gliding around the castle like some theatre student in a Dracula production. Through with him lowly growling every word, making her shiver. And through with those intense, burning eyes that made her want to melt every time he looked at her…

“That’s it! I’m finished wallowing over Severus bloody Snape. Starting this moment, I’m not going to think of him ever again.” She declared more to herself than her familiar. 

A sudden tapping at the window interrupted her decision. Recognizing the owl immediately, Hermione groaned. If there was one quality she could never criticize about Snape, it was his timing.

Author's note: Thanks for all the words of encouragement from everyone! I really appreciate the support and positivity. Things have been crazy between quarentine, homeschooling, and working from home. Hope you all are staying healthy and safe :) 


	18. The Apology

Severus Snape was pacing. In the rubbish bin beside his desk, a small hill of crumpled parchment overflowed to the ground below, each page a failed attempt at apology. If it was to be any indicator, this encounter was going to end terribly. Translating feeling into language was not the professor’s forte.

Any moment, his witch would be stepping through the fireplace. No, not his witch, he mentally admonished. That possessive sort of thinking had gotten him into this mess. Hermione Granger was free to do as she pleased. She was not his witch.

But Merlin, did he want her to be.

A sudden green light illuminated his study, and Severus spun to see the woman in question emerge from the floo. Curls flew as she shook ash from her hair and then brushed more from a lace sleeve. With no small amount of irritation, her firm gaze met his.

“Let’s get this over with then, professor.”

“Granger,” he drawled slowly. “Before we test the potion, I have something to say.”

She huffed. “I think you’ve said quite enough, Snape. I’d much prefer to get _out of your hair_ , as you so eloquently stated. I have no interest in being further insulted by you.”

“Insulted?” He sneered. Sure, he had yelled, but he had not intentionally meant disrespect. “The only insult I offered was directed toward your redheaded companion. I fail to see where you misinterpreted some personal affront.”

She jabbed an angry finger toward him. “Insinuating that I need your permission to let Ron help? You and I are partners in this, Snape! You don’t trust me, and you’ve been treating me like your bloody personal assistant all year!”

His eyes flashed intensely. “Then fortunately, our project is completed, and you are quite free to do whatever you wish.”

“Great!” Both hands flew up in irritation. “I will!”

“Damnit Granger stop your screeching - I am trying to apologize!”

She looked properly shocked. “Well. You’re doing a shit job.”

“Don’t you think I know that!” He snapped. With a deep breath he raked both hands through his hair. In a much softer voice, he continued, “The words I said on Saturday… do not reflect my feelings.”

Hermione crossed her arms, some residual fury apparent in her stance. She raised a challenging eyebrow. “And what are your feelings, then?”

“You are…” he looked quite uncomfortable, “you are not terrible company, as I insinuated. I am sorry.”

There. A quick and simple admission of guilt and an apology. His gaze left hers, looking determinedly instead at a jar of pickled slugs across the room as she took a step forward.

Her chin rose in defiance. “No.”

At the unexpected reply, his eyes snapped back up. “Excuse me?”

“I think I deserve a better apology than that.”

An eyebrow quirked, but he nodded. “Fine. Very well. You are a brilliant witch, Granger, and I have come to appreciate the time we spend together. I should have valued your judgement enough to know Mister Weasley would be successful in his augmentation of the time turner. You are of the incredibly few people I wish to remain close to, and I regret pushing you away. I apologize.”

For a moment, Hermione was too surprised to speak. “Thank you,” she offered tactfully, not wanting to upset the delicate truce that established itself between them.

He nodded. In the short silence that followed, she examined his stoic face. His piercing black eyes now refusing to meet hers, his pronounced nose, his strong jaw. She felt a surge of momentum; now was the perhaps the best opportunity she would get.

“Listen, Snape… If you truly do not mind my companionship quite so much, well, I’ve been thinking. Maybe now that the potion is finished, we could, I don’t know, have a drink together or something?” She quickly added, “Not n-necessarily like a date, I mean, if you wouldn’t want it to be, but I was just thinking we could maybe get to know each other more, and it doesn’t have to be a drink either, we could just have a cup of tea even, or I could help you brew if you’d like that instead, or we-“

His low baritone interrupted the monologue. “Do you ever stop talking, you beautiful witch?”

Suddenly his hands were on her hips, pressing her firmly against the table, and his mouth was moving desperately against hers. A dam had broken. Months of suppressed desire were poured into this desperate moment. Hermione returned his intensity, hands clutching the robes on his chest, trying to pull him closer, erasing every inch between their bodies. Involuntarily, she ground slightly into him and he growled. His lips opened as hers did, letting his tongue dip into her mouth. Hermione reciprocated, feeling hands roam upward from her hips along her body to be buried in her hair.

His kisses grew softer, less forceful and more passionate. After breaking apart, he rested his forehead against hers. “I should have done that months ago,” he breathed heavily. “I’ve wanted you for so long, Granger.” Dropping his lips in favor of her neck, he planted soft kisses along the sensitive skin there.

“You'll have dinner with me, then?”

“I’ve already made reservations,” came his murmured admission between kisses.

She barked a surprised laugh. “So… You knew? This entire time?”

“I _waited_ this entire time.” His lips grazed her jaw for a moment before he stepped back. “When you stormed out, I thought I’d ruined it all. I thought somehow I’d changed what was supposed to happen. I thought I’d lost you.”

A genuine smile crossed her face. “I’m glad you convinced me to come back, then. Should we test the potion?”

Nodding, he threw a glance to the cauldron in question. “We should, though I believe it is your turn to be the metaphorical guinea pig.”

She conceded, and he stepped forward with his wand drawn. The pad of his thumb brushed her cheek as he whispered the spell.

“ _Obliviate_.”


	19. Potions and Portkeys

Her mind felt foggy, like the small moment of awakening when consciousness lingers between dream and reality. Hermione absently brought her fingers to her lips. She must have zoned out. Wasn’t there something she was about to do?

Oh yes. Snape had finally apologized for being an absolute git. Perhaps hearing kind words come from her former professor had given her a small stroke. She examined the man in question; he was putting the sparkling white potion into glass vials, looking a bit flushed. She frowned.

Well, the cauldron was certainly hot. Still, she’d never seen so much color in his face. Now that she thought about it, her face felt a bit warm as well. 

“You portioned six doses,” the observation escaped before she could stop it.

“I did.”

“Two for my parents…”

He answered the unasked question. “One to test. One for Draco, to be another item in his father’s collection; a token of gratitude for his help. And these two,” he placed them into a wooden box, “would be better off delivered by yourself. No doubt Mister Longbottom would be hesitant to accept anything from me, considering our history.”

“Neville?” Hermione blinked in surprise, before understanding. “His parents.”

Fondness for the wizard swelled within her. If the Ministry knew they’d spent the last year dealing with time magic, they could easily end up in Azkaban. Curing Alice and Frank Longbottom was certainly a risk; one he was willing to take. Over the last year she discovered more and more that this man was not entirely the cruel, heartless bat of the dungeons his students believed him to be. She had only just begun to know the real Severus Snape, and now their project was complete, and their time together was finished. Unless…

Gryffindor courage, she reminded herself.

“Since I came all the way here, I’d still like to ask a question. There’s something I’ve been meaning to say.” She tried to speak clearly. “W-would, erm, would you like to get a drink sometime? It wouldn’t have to be a date, I mean, if you don’t want it to be. We could just go as… whatever it is that we are. Colleagues?”

An eyebrow quirked. “Are you attempting to ask me out, Granger?”

“Attempting, yes.” She mumbled, feeling very much like a nervous first year with her professor looming over.

“Interesting.” Looking unfazed, he handed her the phial of the white liquid. “Go ahead.”

The picture of surprise, she uncorked it with shaking hands. “Oh. Did… did you obliviate me?”

“Ob-viously.”

“Okay. Um,” she drank it quickly and their recent passionate moment rushed quickly back into her head. With a gasp, her fingers again rose to touch her lips in surprise. “Of all my memories, you removed that!”

He smirked with no small amount of satisfaction. “It isn’t often beautiful women ask me out, Granger; at the opportunity of hearing you say it again, I couldn’t resist.” 

/* /* /*

“It’s today!”

Hermione quickly apologized to the ruffled kneazle for leaping out of bed. He sauntered toward the living room as if to say, 'apology not accepted.'

Saturday had taken months to arrive. After Snape agreed to a date, she wondered briefly on Thursday morning if handling time sand for long enough could slow down perceptions of reality. By the end of the day, she had joked to Ginny and Luna over drinks that perhaps she should swing by St Mungo’s to be sure.

Ginny stepped through the floo at five that evening, and Luna arrived a few minutes later. The former got to work choosing an outfit, leaving Luna to experiment with some new beauty charms. 

“Our cosmetic columnist at the Quibbler is fantastic. She was showing me this new one. What do you think?”

Hermione blinked heavily at the mirror. “Erm, I don’t know, Luna. My lashes sort of look like overgrown spiders.” 

Several floating dresses hovered behind Ginny. “Green is more your color, but this red one is a nicer style. Oh! Perfect!” A blue dress sprang from the hanger and modeled itself for them. 

“Have you told Ron and Harry?” Luna’s melodic voice inquired as she reddened her friend’s lips.

When the charm was done, Hermione smiled into her reflection at the color. “This is perfect, Luna!” Setting the mirror down, she added, “I tried to bring it up with the boys last night, but I don’t know how they’d react. Ron is already a little uneasy with Harry’s new boyfriend. God knows he can’t deal with too many emotions at once.”

Ginny’s eyes glittered with curiosity. “Harry told you who it is?”

“Yes, but you won’t find out from me! He’ll tell you when he’s ready.”

The dress magicked itself onto Hermione, and the girls stood back to admire their handiwork. 

“You look perfect!”

Arriving at Hogwarts through the floo shortly after, Severus Snape’s gaze mirrored their sentiment.

“You are breathtaking as ever, Granger,” his low voice rumbled. “How do you feel about portkeys?”


End file.
